


poison

by fallingyoonjin



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, an izzy/axl reunion, basically axl is impulsive and izzy just wants to go to sleep, set in 1996, there's slight smut but very brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingyoonjin/pseuds/fallingyoonjin
Summary: axl’s a sight to behold, climbing out of a shiny black toyota he’s parked hazardly on the grass (izzy sighs), leaving skidmarks behind him. it’s cold in indiana this time of the year, but axl is only wearing a t-shirt and a ripped pair of jeans. he seems unbothered by the cold as he slams the door close and kicks it for good measure. all izzy can do is watch helplessly as the man he never expected to see again strides toward his front door.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	poison

**Author's Note:**

> trying to revive the axl/izzy (axiz? what's their ship name) tag with some reunion shit. you're welcome.

izzy can’t really discern the emotions swirling in his brain as he stares out of the window. it’s dirty, not too much that you can’t see out of it, but enough to warrant some cleaning. he’s been meaning to, but it’s hard to find the will to clean windows no one’s ever around to see anyways. he suddenly wishes he’d cleaned them anyway.

he’d been drinking his coffee on the sofa, mindlessly watching some western film on the tv when the sounds of a car arriving brought him to the kitchen window to see just who is coming to bother him at 8pm on a tuesday. he probably should’ve known it’s axl. it’s always axl, entering his life like a fucking tornado when he least expects it, taking down buildings and trees with him.

he’s a sight to behold, climbing out of a shiny black toyota he’s parked hazardly on the grass (izzy sighs), leaving skidmarks behind him. it’s cold in indiana this time of the year, but axl is only wearing a t-shirt and a ripped pair of jeans. he seems unbothered by the cold as he slams the door close and kicks it for good measure. all izzy can do is watch helplessly as the man he never expected to see again strides toward his front door.

he stays at the window even though axl is out of sight, probably almost at the entrance. fair enough, someone’s pounding on the door. he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move a muscle as he stares into the distance. the knocking doesn’t stop. axl never did like giving up. izzy heaves a sigh, sets the cooling mug down on the granite countertop and goes to open the front door.

the door reveals a grinning axl rocking back and forth on his feet. “hi there, jeffrey. mind if come in?”

not waiting for an answer, he breezes right past izzy, who closes the door while glancing past his shoulder at where axl is heading. “don’t call me that.”

“what, jeffrey? it’s your name isn’t it?” axl plops down onto the sofa, onto _izzy’s_ sofa, in _izzy’s_ house. at 8pm on a tuesday, five years after they last saw each other. what the fuck.

izzy leans on the doorframe and crosses his arms. he’s itching for a cigarette. “why are you here, axl?”

he watches carefully as axl fidgets, his legs bouncing and fingers moving over everything in his vicinity. he doesn’t look nervous, just… restless. full of energy. the man tips his head back on the backrest and grins. “i came to visit you. duh. why else would i be here?”

axl pats the spot next to him. izzy shakes his head, not removing his eyes from the other. seeing axl after so long is throwing izzy off balance. it feels so familiar and so strange at the same time. he’s seen him on tv of course, every now and then seeing his face plastered on the news after yet another incident of cancelling a concert or attacking a security guard. but a grainy picture on the tv doesn’t hold a candle to axl in real life, ten feet away from you. his eyes are clear and expressive, his red hair fiery and full of movement, falling out of place every time he tucks it behind his ears. he looks beautiful. he always has to izzy, even when he couldn’t get up from his bed for days and his hair was greasy and stringy, or when he would party so hard he would vomit all over himself, leaving a sober izzy to clean him up.

it doesn’t mean he’s happy to see axl. maybe in different circumstances, but not like this.

“whose car is that outside, axl?” he asks quietly. the redhead treats his cars like babies, he would never allow anyone to kick his car, not even himself.

axl’s grin wavers. “… mine.” a pause. “okay, fine! it’s my managers. big deal! he won’t miss it”, he admits with an eyeroll.

“what the fuck, axl!” izzy hisses, “please tell me someone knows you left. did you drive from fucking los angeles?”

“no, no one knows i’m here. or that i left. who cares? it’s not like i was doing anything in la anyways. waste of my fucking time”, axl huffs out and lifts his hand to inspect his nails.

“what about the band? you know, slash and duff, still remember them? matt, dizzy? you just gone leave them there without a word?”

izzy watches axl’s face darken before he smiles again, jumping to his feet. “so what are we doing today? is that one bar still there? feel like having a drink.”

izzy moves to block axl. they stand there, just staring each other down, before axl sighs and goes to sit on the couch again. he doesn’t look too miffed though, instead letting his eyes wander around the living room. izzy takes a few calming breaths. fucking axl rose, continuing to be a pain in the ass going on 20 years now. _and yet you still won’t kick him out._

“axl. look at me. have you been taking your meds?” he already knows the answer, way too familiar with his manic behavior to not realize. he asks anyway, if only to make axl admit it to himself.

they stare at each other in silence before axl slumps against the backrest with a big exhale. a strand of red hair sticks to his upper lip. izzy resist the urge to go remove it himself.

“no, okay? i haven’t taken my damn medication and you know what? i feel great! better than i’ve felt in months! the fucking pills were dulling my senses, man, i don’t need them.”

izzy has to lean against the wall again as a familiar weariness settles on his shoulders again. it’s the sort of exhaustion that comes with dealing with axl and his constant bullshit. the kind that drives everyone away eventually the way it drove izzy away years ago.

he rubs his face, feels the starts of a headache twinging in his skull. why did axl have to come to him, of all people? it’s a futile question to ask, because axl wouldn’t answer and izzy already knows why anyway.

“okay. okay, just take it easy, yeah? how long are you staying?” he asks because axl didn’t even bring any luggage with him, another sign that this trip was an impulsive decision dictated by his mania. fuck, he really needs to call someone about this, slash or management or whoever.

“i didn’t really think about it. for as long as i feel like it, maybe a couple of weeks.”

izzy nods, because okay. he’s dealt with axl for years, he can do it for a couple of weeks. his gaze follows axl who has jumped up to inspect the photos on the wall above his tv. they’re impersonal, just pictures of his dogs, one of a sunset he took a while ago, so he lets axl look, not bothering to tell him off.

“do you want to sleep in the guest room or the living room? the couch pulls apart”, he asks after a minute. it’s early, but izzy wants axl in bed before he gets another stupid idea to backpack to india or whatever. he looks terrible anyway, dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

the redhead turns to him with a coy smile, tilting his head. izzy already knows he’s going to say some dumb shit. “what, we’re not sleeping in the same bed? i was really looking forward to cuddling with you after so long.”

izzy shakes his head. “guest room it is. get your ass in the shower, i’ll bring you some clothes.”

___

_how did i end up here?_

it’s a fair question, considering that a few days ago izzy hadn’t even seen axl in years. but again, he knows the answer.

in a way, it’s almost like he was expecting this to happen, knowing axl was a magnet no one could stay away from, even when they couldn’t wait to get away. izzy’s no different. it took about fifty hours of being in the same building as axl before he was back in bed with him. a new record, even for him.

but he’s always been weak when it comes to axl. it was true twenty years ago, when they were still jeffrey and william, and it’s true now. he thought he’d last longer though, thought he’d have more resolve, but apparently all it took for him to resort to his old habits was a sleepy redhead crawling to his bed in the middle of the night.

izzy had tried to push him away, but for all his grumbling and bitterness, he’d missed axl. in the beginning he’d missed his deep voice telling dumb jokes and his hair shedding on izzy’s t-shirts, after a while even his temper and affinity to throw things when mad. so he had caved and let axl pull his dick out and massage it into hardness. had let him finger himself open and sink down on his cock. it had been slow, almost tender, and the vulnerability on axl’s face had squeezed izzy’s heart painfully. a weak, weak man.

and now, axl was asleep against his shoulder, puffing warm air against izzy’s neck. izzy couldn’t fall asleep, not with the mixture of emotions running around his head. there’s love there, something he has tried to suppress for years, but yet again, it bubbles through his carefully put up walls. there’s also regret, not regret for the lovemaking, but for the fact that it won’t last. izzy’s not capable of handling axl’s mood swings nor his own reactions to them. every time they try, it ends up with screaming and one of them leaving. last time it was izzy who left.

they’re unhealthy together, it’s been proved time and time again. and time and time again they ignore it and try to make it work. it never does.

izzy presses his lips to axl’s hair, trying to savor a moment he knows is already slipping through his fingers.


End file.
